These Things That Time Cannot Erase
by ImThatTypeOfGirl
Summary: Long ago she made her father a promise, a promise no girl as young as her should ever have to make. One-shot.


**A/N: A one-shot Skyrim fanfic inspired by these two songs by Fall Out Boy: 'Miss Missing You' and 'Just One Yesterday'. Focuses around a young Altmer/Imperial girl and her struggle to keep her father's promise. A short background on one of my four OCs, Nyraa, and some of the reasons why she acts the way she does. My main story involving her is taking some time to get going, but I'm finally getting somewhere with it. Leave a review to let me know what you think, please. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Skyrim is not mine, neither are the lyrics from Fall Out Boy's songs 'Miss Missing You' and 'Just One Yesterday'.**

**The lines that inspired me for this story:**

**MISS MISSING YOU**

_Don't panic, no not yet, I know I'm the one you want to forget. Cue all the love to leave my heart; it's time for me to fall apart._

**JUST ONE YESTERDAY**

If heaven's grief brings hell's rain, then I'd trade all my tomorrows for just one yesterday. (I know I'm bad news)- For just one yesterday - (I saved it all for you).

* * *

_**These Things That Time Cannot Erase**_

It was summertime, with warm blue skies and wildflowers lining the paths. I remember being in the forest with my father, and we were laughing. I must have only been about six, but the memory is still startlingly clear in my mind. We were meant to be hunting - or something along those lines – but it had all dissolved into fun and games. I was chasing butterflies through the tall grass, falling over my skirts in a vain attempt to close my pudgy fist around the vibrant orange wings of a Monarch. My father wasn't far behind, chuckling as I stumbled and rolled head over heels in the grass, sitting up and sneezing as the pollen tickled my nose. The Monarch fluttered off, oblivious to the small child who had desired it moments earlier.

"You'll never catch anything with clumsy giant steps like that!" my father laughed, sweeping me up into his arms and wrapping one tight around my waist. He moved off through the trees; his dark eyes were bright with mirth as they flickered to meet my own soft golden ones. I stared at his face, burning it memory, tracing the line of his strong jaw with one small, fat finger. He grinned, his teeth white like snow against his soft pink lips. A blanket of rough stubble covered his cheeks and chin, and I giggled when the hairs scratched my palms and left them feeling sore, but in a good way. I played with his long, wavy brown locks, coming free of the loose ponytail they had been drawn into at the nape of his neck.

"What are you doing, Nyraa?" he raised an eyebrow, chuckling lightly. "Not casting a spell on me, I hope!"

I frowned. "Why, is that a Bad Thing, papa?" For a moment, his face lost its jovial glow, but it was back before I could blink. He shook his head, wisps of hair turning bright as the sunlight caught them in gentle golden fingers. He laughed, but this one was quieter and had a rough edge to it.

"No, my darling," his voice came out low and sad. "I'm sure it's what your mother would have wanted you to take on."

I don't know why I did it, maybe a six-year-old sixth sense told me it my dad was having a Grown Up Moment, but I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. I didn't say anything, and neither did he, but I knew he wouldn't have even if he'd wanted to. He was stifling tears; I could tell by the way his sniffles got a little bit more frequent, and he raised his spare hand to wipe at his face when he thought I couldn't see. When I was sure he'd recovered, I mumbled into his collar: "Put me down, papa."

He laughed, the last of his sadness fading. "Why? Getting too old for your father to carry you about now?"

I didn't know what else to say, so I just nodded and answered: "Yes."

He stopped and, as requested, put me down. "What now, Nyraa?"

I giggled and poked his leg with my finger, "You're it!" and darted away into the trees.

We spent the rest of the afternoon in that forest, where the wildflowers danced amongst the trees and reached for the glimpse of sun they could see between the branches above. Tiny insects buzzed about on the mild breeze, their usually transparent wings turned a murky yellow by the dying sunbeams that shifted through the woodland vegetation. By the time we had both stopped our game, the world was settling down for the night. The sun was fast disappearing behind the distant hills, sending rays of mottled purple and cherry pink into the sky. They patterned the clouds with soft colours and scattered them across the heavens like fading blooms of failing flowers. My father and I tumbled to a halt at the bottom of a grassy slope, laughing as dusk blew a cold wind through the forest. He wriggled over to me and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to him and holding on tight.

"I love you, Nyraa." As he said this, he kissed the top of my head and sighed.

I shifted a little so I could crane my head to look up at him. "Papa?" I asked, and he nodded to acknowledge my question but his eyes were far off in the shadows of the trees.

"What happens now Mama's gone?"

He was silent for several minutes. I was worried he was having another Grown Up Moment, so nudged him to make sure he was still paying attention.

"Tomorrow you're going away for a little bit."

I frowned. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me, sweetheart." His voice sounded strained.

"Where am I going?"

"The College," he forced a smile. "Do you remember? The one in Winterhold?"

I nodded, the image of a ruined grey bridge blanketed in snow flickering across my mind. "Why?"

"Some people there will keep you safe."

"Keep me safe from what?"

My father didn't answer. Finally, just as I thought we were going to get up and go home, he turned to face me with tears sparkling in his eyes.

"You're going to do great things," he said to me, smiling softly. "Promise me you will never give up, no matter how hard things seem, no matter how difficult the journey is to get there. Promise me you'll never forget what I look like, you'll never forget the mornings we spent in front of the fire with your Mama in the cabin. Promise me you'll do good in this world, Nyraa. Promise me."

Now, this was a ridiculous amount of things to make a six-year-old child who had trouble pronouncing 'alchemy' to promise their father, whom they adored with all their heart and was desperate to make proud. But I promised him anyway, promised him with every fibre of my tiny little being. Because in that moment I wanted him to believe that I could do these things he asked, I wanted him to believe he had something to put faith into after Mama passed.

We spoke little of her, maybe because we both missed her and it hurt too much to talk about the beautiful woman who no longer walked this ground, who no longer graced us with her enchanting smiles and wonderful laughter. I remember every detail about her, right down to the very few bad things she'd done. She had my thick hair, but hers was blonde while mine was brown, like my Papa's. She had high cheekbones on which her eyes rested – golden, too, like mine. She was tall, slender and undoubtedly graceful. We all had lived in a tiny cabin in the woods, somewhere in Falkreath Hold. My father was – and still is – a hunter, while my mother was an alchemist. And a great cook.

She tried to teach me, but I had little patience for something I thought so pointless. Looking back, I wished I'd listened ever so carefully to her. But I can hardly blame myself when I was so young – and yet I still do. It still pains me to remember how I used to get stroppy with her, make her face crumple with sadness when I went off in a four-year-old huff. If I could go back and do things differently, I would. But what is done is done. If my life were a painting it would be blurred and messy and stained by blood and tears at the beginning, then become something more controlled as it reached the other end.

My father kept true to his word. By the next morning, I was off on a cart to Winterhold with nothing but the clothes on my back and a note clutched tight in my fist. I wasn't nervous, far from it. I was sad, sad to leave my father behind me with my old life, like a piece of parchment someone had scrunched up and thrown away. The College of Winterhold loomed closer like a stone giant on the horizon after several days of travelling. I reached the bridge, my feet numb from the cold and my robes crusted with snow. I showed my note to the woman at the entrance. She led me inside, and so my new life began.

I never saw my father again.

Many, many years later, I would become a Master of Destruction magicka and be feared and respected by all at the College of Winterhold. Many, many years later, I would grow cold and hateful; despise those I worked alongside as we learnt our chosen school. Many, many years later...

...I would fall in love.

I would dream of the life I once knew, the life I once had with my mother and father in the seemingly endlessness of our forest, of our cabin that drowned within its embrace. I would trade all of my tomorrows for just one yesterday, just one yesterday with my old life and my old memories; back before they held all of my sorrows and grief like stones sinking in the river of my mind. What path would I have taken if my mother had not died, if my father had not sent me away? One thing that I knew for sure is that I would never hold this agony within the deepest reaches of my heart, locked away tight under layers of malice and spite. I would never have met my soul mate, my one true love that made life worth living again.

I would also never have met a wonderful Altmer woman, who would drag me into the most terrifying and amazing adventure of my life.

_All _of my tomorrows for _just one_ yesterday?

No, probably not. A damn few, definitely, but not all of them. After all, I couldn't bear to lose my lover and the only friend I have ever known if I traded all of them.

But none of this has happened yet – although you can be assured it will. Right now, I'm a little half-breed who has been thrust into a world she doesn't understand, made promises she can never dream to keep. But you'll be happy to know I do, though through circumstances you'll never believe. But that's another story, for another time. Just like my ropy romance with the eventual love of my life. I'm sure you'll hear all about it soon. After all, my friend can't exactly keep an adventure as enormous as hers a secret for long – especially when the things she's hunting tend to turn up on your doorstep, breathing bouts of frost and fire.

But again, another story for another time. And you can also be assured I'll be mentioned in there somewhere as well, with my promise ringing true in every spell I cast.

"_You're going to do great things," he said to me, smiling softly. "Promise me you will never give up, no matter how hard things seem, no matter how difficult the journey is to get there. Promise me you'll never forget what I look like, you'll never forget the mornings we spent in front of the fire with your Mama in the cabin. Promise me you'll do good in this world, Nyraa. Promise me."_

No-one will ever know just how I glad I am that I did.


End file.
